The Rottnest Island experience

Rottnest Island isn't the most scenic holiday location on earth. The accommodation is a bit rough around the edges, food prices are steep, there are poisonous snakes in the sand dunes and quokka shit sprinkled liberally across all walking surfaces.

Have I put you off? Good, cause to be honest it's my favourite place on the planet and I'd rather keep it to myself. You can have your lush rainforest resorts, or drink cocktails out of two litre buckets in Bali and I'll have my Rotto.

So it was with great pleasure that I spent the last two weeks on the great southern island with Mrs Cookster and the young Cookster clan aged 2, 3 and 10. Having spent much of my childhood on Rotto, marking such memorable occasions as learning to ride my bike and getting drunk for the first time, it was a visit filled with much misty-eyed nostalgia.

In a case of life turning the full circle, I was able to watch my own son come to grips with a bike in almost the exact spot that I had some 35 years earlier. Back then the road on the Bathurst end of Thompson Bay was shaded by Bungalow 5 where our family would spend two weeks every January.

My Nanna Flora was the ruler of that rickety bungalow and in charge of duties including the shooing of rogue quokkas with the broom, boiling the water for the nightly 'bucket baths', preparing the freshly caught herring and procuring the fabled bakery cream buns.

My Grandad Len would work with Dad to set up our illegal 'hose and shower head' set-up in the back courtyard so the adults could take an illicit shower without having to line up and pay for a wash at the shower blocks.

This recent visit gave me time to reflect on those happy days and bring my Nanna back to the island for one last time. Our family gathered on the rocks beneath the Bathurst Lighthouse and scattered her ashes into the waters at Pinkies Beach where she would swim every morning in her powder blue bathing suit and matching swimming cap. Enjoy the stay Nanna, we'll be keeping the tradition alive.

That night I dreamt I was nine years old, lying on my cot on the verandah of bungalow 5, smelling the scent of Rottnest Pines and salt lake foam, reading war comics and rubbing my sandy feet on the RIB army blankets at the foot of the bed.

The next day we learned that a young boy had been killed by a collapsed pillar in a unit not far from where the now demolished bungalow 5 once stood. It was an awful feeling that such a tragedy should take place on an island that's supposed to be about creating treasured family memories.

With sentimentality running high, I texted some rather flowery prose in praise of the great island to fellow Rottnest lover, POST Newspaper journalist, union heavyweight and purveyor of smoked herring David 'Fucking Outrage' Cohen.

Of course, he bought me back down to earth by calling me a "wanker" on his cult blogsite Rotto Bloggo.

So in closing, I shall return the favour DC - wanker - and start dreaming of next October when I'll once again tread the sandy shores of Little Parakeet Bay and wallow in its crystal clear waters.

PR & social media - time to get jiggy with it

I was talking with someone this week about the plethora of social media 'experts' that have cropped up like new season mushrooms over the past 18 months and we got on to the subject of where PR fitted in to the scheme of things.

As PR people we are not necessarily tech-savvy. We have IT people to fix our computers and keep us humming along on 'teh interwebz'. We hang about on the geek fringe, dabbling in social networking... or do we more than dabble?

As a blogger for the past five years I've been around the online community for quite some time and would consider myself to be something of an early adopter in that realm.

That being the case, recognising the obvious benefits that social media could bring to my client communication strategies wasn't exactly a huge leap. If I'm online talking about stuff, then surely there are people out there talking about my clients' stuff that I should know about. And if they're not talking about my clients' stuff, then maybe they should be?

That's where some of those PR skills are handy in sorting out the wheat from the chaff. But it's a double edged sword *damn, I should stop with the analogies already!*

Ahem, anyway, as a PR professional my job is to develop clever communication strategies and execute them in a manner to generate as much positive publicity for the client as possible. It's all about the content and the execution.

It's the same with social media strategy. Good content is critical, BUT and it's a huge BUT, the execution is even more critical. It's one thing to pump out a word doc via email to your media lists and follow up with the schmooze, but that just ain't gonna cut the iSnack 2.0 sangers on the interwebz.

What us PR people have had to embrace in a massive way is the idea that we are now communicating with the public directly. Hello, I'm doing it right now! Sure, we still rely heavily on our dear friends in the media to act as the disseminators through traditional media outlets, but we're also coming to you live straight down that copper pipe and into ur 'puters at home.

This is where the big but comes into play. Okay, you're a PR professional kicking huge goals in the traditional sense - column cms coming out of the wahzoo - and then your client says 'let's get jiggy with it on twitter... can you deliver?'

Then you have to ask yourself, 'can I?' Do you have a twitter profile? Do you tweet often? Have you been networking and building your list of followers? Are you sitting there asking 'WTF is he talking about?'

Think of it this way, how important are your media contacts in the PR game as you move through the years and build those links? Bloody important. It's what sets you apart from a PR newby.

The social media arena is no different, if you don't have the contacts, you're not being taken seriously. That point is quite obvious on twitter - if you don't have a good list of followers, you're talking to no one. Sure, Mrs Kutcher and K Rudd will add you to their list, but are they really going to join in the chat about a new burger or pie you're trying to launch?

Don't miss the boat... just sayin'. But just as important, don't suddenly come trampling into the social media space slinging media releases about left right and centre because that'll end in tears. Remember, you're trying to generate a conversation - spamming will win you no friends... trust me, I've been there, but I'm back.

Take the time to develop your contacts and win their trust. Listen to what the tweeps are saying, share ideas and don't just bang on about your clients all the time. Make them WANT to read what you've got to say.

Please excuse any typos, I'm in the middle of organising a tweet-up in Perth to launch Mrs Mac's new Tex Mex pie. Those Perth tweeps just love a pie and a pint :)

The birds are back in town

I was awake at 4.30am this morning. There was a dull glow - a hint of dawn - tapping at my bedroom blinds and then it hit me... this is only going to get MUCH worse as we march into Summer and there is NO daylight saving to come to my rescue.

But it wasn't the light that woke me today. No, it was the early morning cacophony of our native bird life that dragged me from slumber.

First it was the dreadful warbling of the two million magpies that hang out in the adjacent golf course. Excuse the French, but what the fuck are they shouting about? 'Hey, this is my tree - youse can all fuck off and find your own.' 'Hey Frank, there's a baby dugite crossing the 18th fairway that's got our name on it.' 'Man, any of you dudes spot me some worms till my pension check comes in on Wednesday?'

I mean seriously, why at the mere hint of dawn do these noisy bastards have to start up with all the warbling? No wonder koalas are so freakin' grumpy all the time and wombats bury themselves 15ft underground - it's the maggies.

Of course, not long after the maggies start up you get the mother of all noisy bastard birds, the Victorian kookaburra getting in on the act. Throw in a couple of crows having a stoush over the contents of a discarded KFC box and you have a regular fucking orchestra in play.

I don't mind the sound of birds during the day - it's restful. And I get the fact that for some reason they are genetically wired to shout at each other first thing in the morning, but that's why daylight saving was so very, very handy.

As we move into summer, the sun is going to rise progressively earlier and with an increasing level of intensity. Back in 2005 I remember waking at 4.45am one morning thinking I'd slept in. That summer the kids were all awake no later than 5.30am.

For the last three summers the kids have been in bed by 8.30pm - no issues with late sun - and been up at the reasonable hour of 7am. But no longer.

So I'm thinking of making a statement. I'm looking to track down an old Mr Whippy van and when the magpies start their early morning warble, I'm gonna fire that sucker up and hit the streets where the 'NO' DLS voters live and MAKE SURE they're awake to appreciate their glorious early morning light.

And instead of Green Sleeves, I might instead opt for a bit of Enter Sandman or Good Morning Sunshine. Maybe the Pixies doing Gouge Away. I'd be keen to hear your suggestions?

The world of Socialnomics

This video sorta makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

There's no doubt that social media / networking is THE new way of communicating and engaging with the world around us, but some people really do still see it as some kind of fad. If that's you, then watch this video and give yourself a short reality check.

Hell, I never saw a computer until I was about 14 and that had a room to itself that could have housed a small family. I watched black and white TV until grade seven and thought Space Invaders was about as far as technology could possibly ever go. Hah, my first computer was a Commodore 64 - 64kbs, about as powerful as a calculator!

My point is, this change is happening and for people in the communications game it represents a whole new ball game. This beast is galloping along at a powerful pace and I reckon we all need to hang on tight and get ready for the ride of our lives.

Guess who's coming to dinner?

The West Magazine is running a competition asking people to name the five people they'd most like to invite to dinner and why.

Most of the celebrity responses in Saturday's mag were fairly pedestrian, but of course Luke Steele was suitably off-centre, listing Brobee from Yo Gabba Gabba, Al Green, Jane Fonda as Barbarella, James Stewart and Elvis Presley.

I think limiting the number to five is a bit harsh and points off to those who chose to list their partners in the mix - that's gotta be a given doesn't it? And besides, we want to hear about the people who interest you, not about how much you wuv your wife!

So off the top of my head, here's my list. Is there any way to avoid looking like a pretentious arse? I think not...

Hunter S Thompson: Okay, okay, I can hear the cries of wanker ringing out, but imagine the party favours he would bring to the table. And when it all gets too much we could simply dip into the ether supply.

Paul Keating: to remind us of a time when Australian politicians had some clout and could fire off a clever retort like a whip crack.

Carl Hiaasen: A ferociously funny environmental evangelist who writes about the rape and pillage mentality of land developers in Florida. I'd like to see him turn up as his alter ego - the character Skink who has a glass eye and stalks the everglades wearing a shower cap.

Robert G Barrett: author of the Les Norton series of novels that are absolutely compelling, despite being devoid of any literary merit whatsoever. Ideally we'd meet over schnitzels and ice cold Emundi Lagers at the Hakoa Club in downtown Bondi... ah, you wouldn't be dead for quids.

Melanie Safka: the voice that beguiled me back in the 80s when I thought my black suede winkle picker boots were way groovy and Melanie was singing just for me. I reckon both HST and Bob Barrett will have slapped faces before the night is through.

Okay, this was compiled without a huge amount of through and I fear the gender balance is somewhat lopsided, but you get the idea - your fab five???

Club O update

This Friday, 21 August sees another stellar line-up of original bands set to blow the roof off the North Fremantle Centre.

Club O - O for original - is barely a month old and has already cemented itself as a 'must go' Friday night gig for lovers of live original music from across Perth.

This Friday night you can catch:
- Traffic Stoppers
- The Hectics
- Leon Ewing
- Brown Dog Saloon
- The Shambles

Doors open from 7.30pm and the entry fee is $5. Club O memberships can be bought at the bar... Cookster Senior will sort you out.

You can follow the NFC on twitter by clicking here.

Banging the drum

It's winter. It's cold, it's raining, the bowling greens are soggy and it's hardly the weather to prompt the desire for a cold ale. So what to do if you're heading down to The North Fremantle Centre this month?

Well, I'd suggest you grab an African drum and beat it to within an inch of its life!

On Sunday, 30 August, the NFC is hosting an 'African Drum 'n' Dance' workshop with Master Drummer Tuza and The Salaka Ensemble, on tour in Australia for just the second time.

There's a session for beginners and advanced drummers and African dancing for people of all levels.

If you can't make it to the NFC in August, there's another workshop taking place in O'Connor in September - click on the image for all the contact details.

PPOP culture - say no to pokies

Don't worry about the swine flu people, there is something far more insidious heading this way from the eastern states if what we're hearing has an ounce of truth - the cursed pokie machine.

I'm not sure about the business agenda of the Bendat boy and his claims that Coles and Woolworths are bringing pokie machines to Perth, but if he's got the cojones to take them on and stop this scourge in its tracks, all power to him.

I'm no wowser and to be honest, I couldn't give a fat rat's clacker if people want to pour their hard-earned into a machine to get their thrills - each to their own.

But be warned. The Sunday outing to Burswood for Nanna to spend a nice day at the Caz and come home with change from a twenty, this is not. Nor is it the odd flutter when you're tanked just for a laugh. No, this the very thin end of a very fat and intrusive wedge.

After living in Melbourne for 10 years the pokies lose the 'harmless fun' sheen very quickly. You don't have to go very far to find row after row of gormless people of all ages sitting dull eyed in front of their 'favourite' machines, feeding coins into slots and punching flashing buttons like robots in a car assembly line. Grandmas have been clubbed to death to feed pokie addictions.

Yeah, it's a happening scene alright. But what really shits me about pokies is what they do to the local pub. In essence, a pub full of pokies is about as much fun as having a cyst taken out of your eyeball. And let's be honest, the pub scene in Perth is already dire enough. Adding pokies would be like an ice pick frontal lobotomy on a patient already struggling for signs of life.

Can you imagine popping down to your local for a quiet ale and a yarn, only to be confronted by a hideous wall of machines that compete with each other for your dollar by sporting the most garish, fit-inducing bells and whistles possible?

We're not talking that romantic vision of the old 'one armed bandit' where you pull the lever and watch the pop-art style cherries and diamonds spin frantically to stop in a shower of golden coins at your feet. No, we're talking electronic boxes covered in terrible artwork that will swallow your money in whatever form (notes as well as coins) as quickly as you care to feed them.

The issue was discussed today on the NOVA 937 breakfast show and there was talk of why wouldn't you have these in your pub if they generate income? We could offer cheaper food and drink and the punters would love that - wouldn't they?

My response? Would you go and eat a $10 chicken parma and pint in the public crappers at Kings Park just because it's a bargain? How about $5 bangers and mash in the emergency department at Charlie's?

It's all about A.T.M.O.S.P.H.E.R.E and a pub full of pokies has foregone that right for the sake of chasing a dollar. Live bands, quiz nights, great food? Nah, who needs that sort of time consuming nonsense when you can just plug a machine into a wall and let it do its thang.

Don't get me wrong, Melbourne still has a pub scene that is second to none, but once you push further from the CBD and the choice that precinct offers, the scourge of pokies is more entrenched.

And don't be fooled by any promise that gambling areas would be separated from the main drinking / dining areas. Pokies are dangled in front of punters shamelessly - you can even get free tea and coffee if you've got a pocket fat with coin.

No. It's time for Perth People Over Pokies (PPOP) to take a stand and keep these soul destroying vermin from making their way across the Nullabor to breed with their buddies at Burswood.

Make your mark on the pokie poll to the right, share this link and stay tuned for the facebook page.